


cut you open and watch you bleed

by magisterequitum



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/pseuds/magisterequitum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they are <i>spies</i>, not spies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cut you open and watch you bleed

He fucks her in the hotel room's bathroom.

Downstairs the guests still mill around the ballroom, completely unaware of what's happening five floors ahead behind a locked door.

Katniss had made him angry, stealing the file right out from underneath his nose, and now he's fucking her in the bathroom. With one hand she holds the skirt of her gold dress up, the other she grips the marble counter top, knuckles white as he thrusts into her. The reflection in the mirror shows that neither of them has bothered with removing any of their clothing, simply moving things out of the way instead. Her hair's falling from the bun she'd put it up in and he's bitten through his bottom lip.

She laughs and Gale drives his hips into her further for that noise, the counter digging into her stomach and bottom of her ribs; the pain's minimal compared to the pleasure of their actions.

She laughs and he fucks her, their eyes catching in the mirror, his hand, so large against the curve of her waist, tightening in response to her hips pushing back into him.

She still leaves with the file.

 

 

 

 

There are spies and then there are _spies_.

As in like there are the spies you see in the movies, all gung ho, wearing black and with theme songs that play in the background, and there's lots of explosions and people being killed out in the open. Those are the movies though. The movies are full of shit.

This isn't anything like that. This is the second. They are _spies_.

Who's "they"? All of them, none of them. She and Gale, some others with names that may or may not be their real ones. They're all called the Districts though, collectively, though that's not to say they all work together. They don't. Case in point:

There's a woman who won't give Katniss what she's here for. She's tiny, bird like limbs, but the sneer on her lips and the knife in her hand speaks against the youthness of her.

Katniss puts a bullet between those dark, hateful eyes. Good use that knife did her, she thinks as she takes the case from her dead body.

 

 

 

 

They play hopscotch across Europe.

She and Gale, that is.

He's been in this as long as she has. Gale is old, Gale is comfortable, Gale is hers. Hers to hurt, hers to steal from, hers to be stolen from, hers to fuck when she pleases with a smile on her face and her fingers woven together with his; it's the only time she shows kindness.

This is a game to them, their entertainment in their world where there's nothing except the job at hand.

They're not allies, but they're not quite enemies either.

 

 

 

 

In Milan, Gale shoves her out a window. It's only a two story drop, but she lands on a car. The windshield breaks under the weight of her body and the force of her fall.

"Motherfucker," she calls up to his grinning face in the window.

Later, Haymitch walks in on her as she picks glass from her shoulder in the bathroom. "Boy trouble again, sweetheart?"

"Fuck you," Katniss bites, releasing her grip on the tweezers and watching the last shard of glass fall into the sink. "Hand me the needle."

She stitches herself up while Haymitch watches and drinks from the doorway. She makes him pour her one after she ties the stitch off.

 

 

 

 

Once they had a conversation that went like this:

"I don't know if I can kill you."

"I can," she answers; she can because there's a picture of a little blonde girl on her dresser back in her room, beside her always, and for that she can, no matter how much she may not want to.

She pauses, inhales and exhales with the wind that tosses her hair about her coat's collar. "Doesn't mean I'd want to though."

They never talk about this again.

 

 

 

 

In Budapest Katniss puts him in the trunk of her car.

Well, actually she hits him over the back of the head while he's smoking out back, knocks him out, and then puts him in the trunk of her car.

She drives for sixty miles, and at thirty he wakes and starts beating against the trunk's hood. She changes the channel and turns the music up on the radio. He stops after a minute.

Eating from a plastic bag of chips, she finally lets him out after the odometer turns over to sixty-one. Hip bearing her weight against the car, she pops the trunk.

Gale glares up at her, cramped in the small space and no doubt his legs will be sore and tight.

Katniss grins down at him and eats another chip. "Get in."

He does, and she starts to drive again. Gale stretches his legs out in the space before him, massaging his calves. "You had to stick me in there?"

"Storage space," she answers. "I needed you somewhere out of the way."

He snorts, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He's not really angry. "So did you get it from Mellark?"

She gives him a look that implies he shouldn't have even asked.

"Well at least I didn't have to deal with him then."

Katniss taps the breaks at that without meaning to. "You leave him alone."

Gale's lips split into a wide grin. "You soft on him?"

"I owe him," and her voice's hard enough to tell him that he better drop it. Gale does.

Peeta Mellark had saved her life once, a long time ago, and she'd never paid him back in full. She tries to, she just hasn't yet.

The rest of their trip is in silence until they reach a tiny town that smells of fish. She kicks him out then, leaves him standing there without a worry and a stolen cigarette.

 

 

 

 

It's what they do.

Tit for tat, back and forth, a game as they follow the orders of their handlers and bosses.

It means nothing and it means everything.

 

 

 

 

"Tell me about you."

Katniss peers at him from over the lip of her champagne flute. "You wouldn't like me if I told you about me."

"Yes I would."

She thinks maybe Gale's telling the truth there. He certainly sounds like he means it. She doesn't tell him anyway; she doesn't want to find out.

He lays her out on her bed later and puts his mouth between her legs, draws moans and gasps and whispers from kiss-bruised lips, makes her arch her back in one bowed line, has her grinding his face into her wet cunt as she pulls and twists his hair between needy fingers, winds her up and sets her loose with big hands holding her thighs open.

 

 

 

 

In Prague, Cato drives a knife into her side, curving it up into her, and takes the USB from her bloody hands. She thinks she may know the reason for the hate that shines behind his eyes as he leaves her there on the cold floor.

Gale finds her in the stairwell after she's pushed herself down two flights.

"Shit, shit," he says, picking her up like a doll. "You're bleeding."

"No shit, Gale." Even in pain she can still bite back. "You might as well do me off now."

"Shut up." He gives her a fierce shake.

He takes her back to his flat in the city, lays her out on his bed and doesn't laugh when she makes a joke about what else they could be doing. Her shirt, he tears off and wipes away the blood with a gentle touch. "Missed anything vital. You're lucky."

Lucky. It's just another scar she'll add to her body, a new line of the map that tells her entire story.

Gale cleans her wound and stitches it up, covering it with a white bandage after. He finds her pain pills and all but shoves them into her mouth. He holds her hand tight with his own, gaze unwavering.

He's gone in the morning.

 

 

 

 

He disappears after that. For days, for weeks, for months, she doesn't see him.

 

 

 

 

She's not quite surprised when the rumors surface that Cato's dead.

 

 

 

 

"What's got you so down, sweetheart? More boy trouble."

Katniss glares at Haymitch and snatches her latest assignment from his hands. "I'm fine."

 

 

 

 

Katniss walks into a warehouse in Madrid. She wears a red dress and sunglasses that hide half of her face from anyone else.

The figure that turns away from the window isn't fooled though, and his mouth tilts upwards in a bright smile, large hands slipping from the pockets of his slacks.

"Hello, lover," she teases.

Her dress becomes a forgotten thing on the floor.

 

 

 

 

It's a game, always, for them.


End file.
